A Secret in Time (12 page)

“Who is it?” asked Bess, coming back into the kitchen.

Nancy shook her head and put a finger to her lips.

“Is something wrong?” Bess asked, more anxiously.

At the same time, the gruff male voice spoke up over the phone. “Are you there?”

Shooting Bess a helpless look, Nancy said into the mouthpiece, “Yes, I'm here.”

“The clock is ticking,” the man said. He gave a sinister laugh that made Nancy shiver. Then he added, “Only fourteen minutes left. And don't even
think
about bringing the police with you. If anyone follows you, you won't see your friend George ever again.”

“I understand,” Nancy said. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out a way around the caller's demand. Maybe she could phone Chief McGinnis and tell him where they were meeting the kidnapper. That way, the police could show up right after she'd handed over the brooch—or at least follow the man when he tried to escape.

As if he'd read her mind, the caller said, “It won't matter if the police know where you're meeting me. That's not our final destination.”

Nancy shuddered at the words “final destination.” “We'll be there,” she said tersely, then hung up.

“What? What?” asked Bess, hanging on Nancy's arm.

“Thompson's got George,” Nancy said quietly. “At least, I'm pretty sure it's Thompson.”

“Got? What does that mean, 'got'?”

“It means he wants the brooch in”—Nancy checked her watch—“thirteen minutes or he's going to hurt George.” Nancy didn't want to say “kill” for fear of worrying Bess more than she already was.

“Oh, no!” Bess cried, pacing back and forth between the kitchen counter and the table. “Can't we take Officers Walker and Daniel with us? They're right here.”

“No,” Nancy said as she punched out Chief
McGinnis's direct line. “Thompson warned me not to.”

The chief of police picked up the phone and said, “McGinnis here.”

As quickly as she could, Nancy explained the situation and what she'd learned about Thompson.

“What if we hid an officer in the back seat of your car?” McGinnis suggested.

“I'm too afraid of what might happen to George if the timing's not exactly right,” said Nancy. “What about the police helicopter? That way you could see where we go after we meet Thompson at the intersection.”

“Too loud and noticeable,” the chief said. “Thompson would be sure to see it. I wish there were time to get you a transmitter. That way we could track you electronically.”

Nancy glanced at her watch again. “There's no time for anything,” she said urgently. “We've got twelve minutes left.”

“Okay, here's what we'll do,” said Chief McGinnis. “I'll station unmarked cars north, south, east, and west of the intersection. That way we can intercept you no matter which way you go. I only wish I knew what kind of vehicle to look for.”

“It could be anything,” Nancy said. “An orange van or maybe Thompson's car.”

“We'll find you,” Chief McGinnis reassured her. “Now, get going.”

Nancy hung up and threw George's car keys to Bess. “Start the car,” she said. “I'll be right there.”

Nancy raced to her father's study. Her fingers shook as she turned the combination lock. Seconds later, the safe door glided open, and Nancy grabbed the brooch. Then she slammed the door shut and ran into the front hall.

“What's wrong?” Officer Daniel asked, coming from the living room.

“No time to explain,” Nancy said breathlessly. “Call Chief McGinnis! He'll tell you everything.” Then, as fast as she could, Nancy ran outside to the car.

Bess slid over to let her friend climb in behind the wheel. In a flash, Nancy jerked the gearshift into drive and rammed her foot on the accelerator.

“At least you know the police won't stop you for speeding,” Bess said in a shaky voice as they barreled down Nancy's street. She tried to smile, then began to chew her fingernails. “Oh, I hope George is all right. Do you think he's done anything to her?”

“Not yet,” Nancy said grimly as she made a sharp left turn. “He's got to give us George or he won't get the brooch.”

Nancy made another left onto Route 9 and dodged around slower cars as she drove by fast-food restaurants, shopping malls, and car dealerships.

Traffic thinned as they began to pass more and more empty lots, then farmland. By the time Route 9 ended at the intersection of Route 22, it was completely
deserted. Route 22 was a narrow country road with scraggly trees growing on either side. Nancy slowed the car to a stop.

“Where are they?” Bess asked nervously, craning her neck to look out the window.

Nancy got out of the car. Placing her hand above her eyes to shield them from the bright sun, she looked up and down both Route 22 and Route 9. “No sign of them yet,” she said.

Then Nancy heard a familiar tinkling tune. Looking down Route 22, she saw the square, white Frosty Freeze ice cream truck bumping and shaking over the uneven dirt road.

“I can't believe I ever liked that song,” Bess muttered to herself. She, too, got out of the car.

As the ice cream truck drew closer, Nancy made out a slim, dark-haired figure at the wheel who had to be George. A big, burly form in an orange shirt was beside her in the passenger seat. Nancy blinked as the realization hit her. She'd seen the man at the antiques expo. He had been at Russell Brown's display, wearing the same orange shirt he had on now. An orange shirt just like the ones she'd seen on the RapidSend movers helping Lydia.

When the truck stopped, Nancy saw that the burly man was holding a gun to George's side.

“Oh, George!” Bess cried, running toward the truck.

“Don't come any closer,” warned the man in a gruff voice that Nancy recognized from the phone call.
Though he was seated, Nancy could tell he was very tall. His big potbelly stretched the front of his orange T-shirt and hung over his belt. Three faded green stripes ran across the man's flabby chest with the RapidSend logo beneath them.

Nancy was relieved that Bess had obeyed the man and stopped short. Both girls stood very still while the man pushed George out of the truck, his gun still pointing at her ribs. Nancy could see the scared look in George's brown eyes, even though she was acting calm.

“Let me have the brooch,” he said, holding out one hand.

Nancy had no choice. She removed the brooch from her purse and placed it in the man's palm. He shoved it in his pocket. As Nancy was closing her purse, she noticed the pearl-handled knife, but realized there was no way she could use it to protect herself and her friends.

“You two,” the man said, gesturing at Nancy and Bess with his gun. “Get in the back of the truck.”

Nancy and Bess scrambled behind the front seats and waited.

“You drive,” the man instructed George. He got into the back with Nancy and Bess. “If you pull any fast moves, your friends will pay for it.”

George nodded and got behind the wheel.

“Now go where I told you,” the man said to George.

Nancy tried not to look at the gun that pointed first
at her, then at Bess, as the man kept shifting his aim. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“You'll see soon enough,” he said. He gave them an eerie smile, then wiped his brow with his free hand. “Sure is hot out,” he said. “Bet you'd love to get out of this heat.”

“I'd love to get out of here, that's for sure,” Nancy told him. She spoke boldly, figuring the man already had a plan and nothing she could say would make it worse. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said with mock politeness. “The name's Thompson.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Nancy could see Bess shoot her a knowing look. Nancy didn't acknowledge it, though. She still didn't want to give Thompson any indication that they already knew who he was.

“How do you do,” said Nancy. “I don't suppose you'd like to tell us why you're so interested in that brooch.”

“I'm interested in it because it's mine,” the man told her. “Or it would have been if that little weasel hadn't cheated me out of what I already owned.”

“Who are you talking about?” Nancy asked.

“That skinny little fella with the big glasses,” Thompson said bitterly. “Russell Brown.”

Nancy was pretty sure she knew what had happened, but she needed to buy time. Maybe getting Thompson to talk more would make him drop his guard. “Mr. Brown cheated you?” she asked. “How?”

“The brooch belonged to my aunt Agnes,” Thompson said bitterly. “She was a widow with no children, so when she died, she left me everything. Not that there was much. But she had lots of jewelry, worthless stuff mostly, or at least that's what I thought.” Thompson half rose to see how far the truck had gone. “Almost there,” he said with satisfaction.

Nancy didn't bother to ask where they were. She knew she'd find out sooner than she wanted to. She didn't have long to distract him, but she decided to try to get the rest of Thompson's story from him.

“So you took the jewelry to Russell Brown?” she prompted.

“That's what I did,” he said, nodding. “He told me the whole lot wasn't worth more than a hundred dollars. I didn't know any better—it was all dusty and old. I figured a hundred dollars was better than nothing. Then my sister and her husband dragged me to that expo thing over at the high school, and what do I see? That worm cheated me out of fifty thousand dollars! My sister said I ought to sue him, but I figure I'll just keep things nice and simple and take back what is rightfully mine.”

“But you never got a chance to take the piece out of the expo,” Nancy said, “because Russell Brown noticed the brooch was gone and called for the police.”

“That's right,” Thompson said, frowning. “Good thing your clock was sitting right there with that secret compartment. Are you really a detective?” he asked, his bitter expression fading for a moment.

Nancy shrugged. “At the moment I'm just a hostage.”

Thompson's bitterness returned. “You got that right. You stupid teenagers didn't even know I was following you,” he sneered. “But you still managed to make things difficult for me, didn't you?” He let out a weary sigh. “When the clock wasn't at your friend Gordon's store, I knew you had it.”

Nancy shot Bess a quick glance. So Thompson was the one who broke into Past Perfect.

“You should have taken the hint when I trashed your car engine,” Thompson went on, speaking as if he were scolding a young child. “But no, you had to play tough—even after I almost pushed you off that bridge.”

He aimed the gun toward Bess. Nancy saw that she was trembling and had tears in her eyes.

As George turned up a hill, Thompson cleared his throat. “Enough chitchat,” he said gruffly. “Now stay down,” he warned Nancy and Bess. “If you say one word or show your face, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Nancy and Bess crouched down as low as they could behind the front seats. The truck came to a stop. A minute later Nancy could hear George talking to a man. Then the truck started slowly up another hill before leveling off. George made a sharp turn and then put on the brakes and turned off the ignition.

When she stepped outside, Nancy immediately realized that they were in the Frosty Freeze parking
lot. George usually parked by the large buildings near the driveway, but this time she had stopped at the other end of the vast lot, near one of the smaller buildings. This end of the lot was empty of cars and people. Nancy's hopes sank as she scanned the deserted area.

“That way,” Thompson told the three girls, gesturing with his gun toward a door in one of the nearest buildings. “If any of you try to run, you know what will happen to the others.”

Nancy was the first to reach the gray padlocked door, and she saw that the lock had been forced open.

“Make a left,” Thompson directed as Nancy opened the door.

She obeyed, walking down a wide, empty hallway. Large white doors were set at regular intervals along either side of the corridor. Nancy looked around desperately for a Frosty Freeze employee, but the building was clearly deserted.

“Isn't this building perfect?” Thompson asked as he walked behind them. “I found it this morning. It's empty, but the equipment still works.”

“What is this?” Nancy asked with annoyance. She'd come close to solving this crime, but now she felt absolutely helpless.

“The perfect place to put my witnesses on ice,” Thompson said.

A cold chill came over Nancy as she began to guess his meaning. Before she could do or say anything,
Thompson instructed the girls to halt next to one of the white doors.

“In you go,” he said, opening the door.

Thompson roughly pushed first Nancy, then Bess and George, inside, banging the heavy door shut behind them.

As frigid air washed over the three girls, Nancy knew her worst fears had been realized. They were locked inside a giant ice cream freezer, and no one knew where they were.

Before she'd even gotten her bearings, Nancy started to shiver. Slapping her arms to keep warm, she looked around the freezer. It was the size of a small room, roughly ten feet square. The ceiling was so low that Nancy could almost reach it if she stood on tiptoe. Stacked against the far wall were several dozen brown cardboard boxes with the Frosty Freeze logo printed on them, along with the slogan, “It's Fr-fr-fr-fr-frosty good!”

George noticed the slogan at the same time Nancy did. “It's frosty, all right,” George said grimly, rubbing her arms. “But it's definitely
not
good.”

Bess walked closer to the boxes and examined them. “Rocket Pops, Chocosicles, Strawberry Creme-wiches,” she read. “You know, this was always a
fantasy of mine. All the ice cream I could eat for free.” Her round face twisted in a grimace. “Now it seems more like a nightmare.”